


The Man Behind the Devil's Mask

by RubixaSeraph



Series: DMC Community Projects [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Eva is a witch, F/M, First Meetings, She's a healer but, Sparda is a doofus okay, headcanons and world building, not love at first sight but something nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph
Summary: Not everything starts off with a bang of fireworks.Unless said fireworks were supposed to involve some demon blood and guts.Eva wouldn’t say she got off on the wrong foot with Spencer. Any witch with some common sense would know to be wary of trusting a devil.Except this devil was one that would make long distance phone calls with a telephone to ask how to save a man from being bitten by a foreign demon, and eat cotton candy while in the middle of investigating the trail on said demon.Oh, she made no mistake. By the end of the day, a devil was still a devil. But never has she met a devil who would give in to nurturing that came from living among humans.For DMC Week 2020, Day 2: Monster | Cryptid | Demon
Relationships: Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry)
Series: DMC Community Projects [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953397
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	The Man Behind the Devil's Mask

**Author's Note:**

> \- This author continues to make “Demon Slayer” references in her DMC fanfics because she likes the idea of doing so.  
> \- This fic uses headcanons related to the [Reignite the Flame](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681678) series and the [Fortune Favors the Bold](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839355) series.  
> \- You do not need to have read any of them to make sense of this story.

Human society was always progressing in a way that the denizens of Hell would not; the rapid and ever-changing adaptation of humanity was something that made humanity interesting and resilient. 

Sparda found it an endearing quality. And among the millions of them, there are a number of them with a kind of strength that does not come natural to demons or devils alike. 

The strength of the heart, across all forms, was a treasure that the denizens of the Underworld unknowingly coveted, even if they did not understand the strength that came from humanity. Sparda believed that the strength stemmed from the human ability to love and adapt, which simply could not be taken from their blood alone. 

There is something to be said, however, that the exchange of blood was an exchange of the soul. But those who steal this blood do not understand the power of a loving soul, and thus the stolen blood is squandered.

And devils who did not acknowledge or understand that, will never understand the true power and potential in the human blood that they crave to feast upon. 

And perhaps, the power they so craved, despite not understanding, wasn’t power at all. Perhaps, in the ironically hellish existence of being a devil surviving in the do-or-die bloody Underworld, they all craved love, and the ability to overcome obstacles through more than just brute force. 

These kinds of thoughts, Sparda had held close to his heart for millenia. 

Very few had understood him when he tried to explain these thoughts. And at first, that was fine. He could not expect for his brethren to change so easily, or at all. It was a painful truth, but nurture does not trump all nature, nor does nature always trump nurture. 

Some things will be the way they will be. 

Such as the escalation of Mundus’ campaign, until he put an end to it with his own blades. 

But that was such a time long-past now. 

Now, Sparda found himself wandering back to the city that was now called Redgrave. More like passing by. It’s been a while, but he wanted to make sure that the main seal upon the Temen-ni-Gru was still intact. 

In the recent centuries, he was a little concerned that the once-little village that had been nearby when the Temen-ni-Gru was first erected almost two millennia ago had become such a metropolis. There was a residential district now built atop the location where the tower was, too. 

He could only hope that the tower would remain dormant, never to rise again. 

The once-little village, however, still carried one remnant of the history of when the tower was created. It was by no means a clean and bloodless affair. The village was, in part, a casualty. But many survived, and following the events of the bloody and unexplainable nightmare of a massacre, the remaining people rebuilt upon the land they called home, and called it “The Red Grave.”

And it was odd to reminisce of a past, where, though not all humans knew of the true potential of magic (and its costs), many believed such a thing could exist. 

Nowadays, science was a more tangible power that humans could harness. And it brought its goods and bads. 

Still, there were a small number of humans who could not escape the truth of the world: that there are otherworldly invaders that must be kept in check. Much as Sparda had hoped he presented a permanent solution to keep the two worlds from consuming each other, he had since learnt in the time passed that nothing was quite that simple, and nothing was quite that black and white. 

Some humans, who revere him, may find it hard to believe should he say this, but 2000 years ago, he was quite naive. Had he not been backed by considerable power and skill, he would not have accomplished the justice he sought. 

Oh, it wasn’t that he regretted what he had done. However, as the human saying goes: with age, comes wisdom. 

And that wisdom was that: there is no true separation between Hell and the Mortal Realm, just as there is no true separation between good and evil. 

But life will continue, and through its tragedies, it will flourish still. 

Such as in the current case:

Should anyone ask Sparda to be more clear about the situation, he truly was just passing by. But the scent of something rotten caught his attention after he had made his midnight rounds about the “perimeter” about the residential district where the Temen-ni-Gru was sealed.

It wasn’t just any sort of rotten. There was the distinct smell of something _wrong_ , but no demonic aura that he could sense. The scent, however, did carry some amount of trace of life. Rotten life, but not undead. 

He had caught wind of this scent, centuries ago, when he had travelled into the Far East. By his luck, he had learnt just a little about a kind of demon not born of Hell, but perhaps should belong to Hell regardless.

It was not uncommon for a human to become something inhuman. 

And it was lucky he didn’t choose to pursue this phenomenon at the time. A friend of his informed him that the demons of the East were a phenomenon already being dealt with, and it was better to leave those Demon Slayers to their own devices. Should Sparda’s curiosities have gotten the better of him, the Slayers would not have cared if he was not their target: should they find a Devil in their midst, then it wasn’t a matter of whether Sparda would survive. It was a conflict that didn’t need to happen. 

And he was not a stranger to hunters holding the mantra that “if it’s a denizen of Hell, then it needs to be slain.”

He did not hold a grudge to that thinking. But now that he recognized the scent of something that didn’t belong on the European continent, there was a concern. 

If not dealt with, it may either become akin to an invasive species, or even if it doesn’t “reproduce,” it may cause a spike in casualties. 

So, he chased down the scent, and found the near-human-passing _demon_ engaged in combat with two humans. Hunters, most likely. 

Humans of recent centuries have begun to perfect the making of firearms, and though Sparda would still prefer the blade, there were conveniences that came with firearms. 

One glance at the battle, and it was clear that guns were not efficient against this atrocity. Against many denizens of the corner of the Underworld that Sparda hails from, silver and holy water were effective means to overpower demons with. 

However, the world can be vast at times, and this creature did not care about bullets of silver or holy water. But, what Sparda did know, is that it abhors sunlight, and it probably does not like a good old fashioned decapitation. 

Now, arriving at the scene was one thing. Actually killing it was another. With humans nearby, Sparda could not so easily simply summon his sword. He had Luce and Ombra under his coat, and it seemed his only option was to shoot the demon. 

It was not the most efficient method, but dash the thought of efficiency at this point. One of the hunters just got bitten, and though the demon was wounded from Sparda’s gunshots, it seemed to recognize that something powerful and _not human_ just joined the fray. The expletive it ground out was clearly Japanese, and then the demon fled. 

He had wanted to give chase, but centuries of blending in among humans meant that he had to have care of the injured beside him. Being bitten by anything unknown can spell for disaster, and looking at the horizon, the sun will rise in scantily half an hour. 

Whatever it was, it will not likely terrorize anyone else until next sundown. 

He knelt by the unconscious hunter, and asked their partner: “How can I help?”

* * *

Eva Redgrave would not call herself a well-known witch. She carefully only kept to a small circle of hunters, and kept her name veiled behind the moniker of “The Witch of Redgrave” when referred to for her witchly practices. Her surname was not uncommon in this city, whose odd history was now but a dream among the history books. Even her own research yielded little details on what was so obviously once a supernatural phenomenon that once devastated this land. 

She held no fancy shop. In fact, while she sold homemade preserves and jams and the likes on the side, her “apothecary” was her very own corner-street apartment, warded and only known as a “witch’s hut” to hunters whom she trusted. 

And hunters will pay a fine deal for wards, salves, and even some knowledge on how to avoid curses, how to undo curses, and how to identify curses, etc. 

Being a witch also meant being a night owl, because that’s when hunters are the most active. Many show up around evening to sunset to stock up from her, and hours later, one or two may come back again if they are wounded, or if they have found something interesting. (She could always use more ingredients for her potions, after all.)

From outside, her demonic raven familiar, Lenore, sent her a notice through their connection. People were approaching. One injured. 

It had been a peaceful night up until now. Eva sighed. But being visited by the injured was more of a blessing than not being visited at all. One would never know if the hunter you sold wares to just the previous evening might not have made it out of their hunt alive. 

She dusted off her skirts, and pulled on gloves in case what she had to deal with was vile. As her guests came close to the door, Nowell, her large black wolf familiar, came alert. 

_One of them isn’t human. A devil._ Though not a thought in concrete words, Eva understood through his connection that there was concern. 

And her wards rippled. Whatever the entity was, they were strong, but they were also smart. They did not brute force through the wards. Somehow, they almost seemed to slide through them, as if something too large simply had to move sideways as carefully as possible to come through. However, that did not prevent her from being alerted to their presence. 

The hunters, through Lenore’s eyes, she recognized. She had assisted them a few days prior. 

Eva had reasonable belief that, whatever motives the devil had, at the moment it was not a concern. She dared to say that she’s never seen a devil go through the method of pretending to help the wounded just to come to a witch’s doorstep, and if he needed something from her, she’s better useful to him alive. 

After all, if a devil was after a witch’s soul, the best way to do so would be to barter with a contract. And she will deal with that after she (hopefully) saves a man’s life. 

Eva opened the door the moment she heard a knock, and as the able-bodied hunter rushed in, the taller man (devil) bringing in the injured one immediately got to the point: “Milady, we require your assistance.” (Right before she closed the door, Lenore swooped in to land on her perch in the living room.)

Somewhat outdated title usages? She expected that from a devil that could be heavens-know-what-age. 

The strong, yet soothing voice? Surprising yet also raises a point of concern. After all, devils with charisma are all the more dangerous. 

But she motioned towards the doorway to her study, where a cot that she keeps set up specifically for situations like this was in view. “Over there. Tell me what happened?”

The lucid hunter started: “Something bloody nasty and too smart to be a mindless demon showed up, Ma’am. We found it snacking on a body. Precinct is going to have a hell of a field day with their anonymous tip…”

And the devil supplied: “Some manner of Oni, if you’re familiar with the term. Foreign demon that hails from the Far East, most likely Japan. This man’s been bitten, and we have no way of knowing what adverse effects there will be.”

“Straps it is, then. Get him buckled down, just in case, while I take a look at the wound. Where was he bitten?”

“Left forearm, Milady.” 

The devil wasted surprisingly no time helping her strap the hunter down. The injured one’s companion could only plant himself by the doorway, knowing full well he’ll have to stay out her way since he didn’t know a lick of what he could do to help in the diagnosis process. Situations like these are why her services are required, after all. 

Nowell slipped past the doorway like a misted shadow, which didn’t surprise the hunter (who was a regular of her services) and also didn’t surprise the devil. The large wolf familiar circled about the cot, keeping an eye on the devil-disguised-as-a-human, and the devil did not bat an eyelash at him. Eva found it curious that he wasn’t concerned in the slightest, but she had no time to contemplate on the meaning of this.

Inspecting the bitten arm, she could tell that these were made by jagged teeth. Not surprising at all. The flesh was gnarly but not completely torn off, though something dark and putrid was left in the wound. What was more surprising was that she could feel some sort of ward in place… a ward made from a devil’s power that she could trace back to the devil who had just finished securing the belts of the cot about the injured hunter. 

It was containing whatever possible infection or curse that could be upon the wound. 

Glancing up, Eva finally had a moment to take quick stock of her guest-from-hell. He must be old, to so blatantly wear his image with hair so white, that when she also noticed those eyes that shouldn’t be so clearly blue in this dim lighting, she thought of the image of white clouds on a bright sunny day. 

An odd image to come to mind, when remembering that the man before her was a devil, wearing a long and thick traveler’s coat, and a decent-looking striped purple button-up. Thank goodness he was wearing normal enough pants. Stripes on one piece of clothing was enough.

But it was time to get to the point. When their gazes met, she could tell that he knew what she had discovered. So she asked: “And you are…?”

It was the hunter at the door who answered, trying to be helpful: “Said his name’s Spencer. Hunter from out of the city, passing by. Helped us, though the stinking demon got away.”

“Spencer” hummed in some sort of affirmation. “I wasn’t expecting to find something like that here in Redgrave. It’s something I’ve only heard of, but never fought myself. But I can confirm that they are weak to sunlight, and I have been told that they have an aversion to wisteria.”

Eva knit her brow, done inspecting the wound. “Would any of these aversions help against this wound?”

“I’m uncertain, Milady. I know little else about these Oni, since they are not supposed to be on European soil at all. There’s a chance a friend of mine may know, but I’m afraid an international phone call is out of question right now.”

This got Eva to raise an eyebrow at him. A devil talking about making an international phone call? She would have half expected him to suggest some form of communication ritual. Because, surely this friend wouldn’t be human, would it?

“I can eat the cost of a phone call outside of the country if it means saving a life. The phone is set in the living room.”

The nod Spencer gave her before he turned for the living room, again, made her mentally wonder just what manner of devil she was interacting with. Devils were typically beings that hardly deferred to anyone, much less a human, witch or not. 

As Eva considered what she was going to do about the wound in the meantime, the hunter at the doorway was definitely getting a little antsy about his companion. “Will he be…”

“It remains to be seen. Can you tell me a little more about the demon in question?”

The hunter mulled over it, and described to her something intelligent, and at first, very human-like. It may have actually been more devil than just plain demon, but now that they know it may be of “foreign” origin, it may not be as simple. The most striking feature of it that the hunter was able to witness was that the demon expelled foul and most likely toxic dark goop.

And in the living room, Lenore monitored the conversation Spencer was having over the phone with someone named Lance. From the one-sided conversation Eva could gather from Lenore’s monitoring, she found Spencer a devil of odd motives. 

It seems that he played into his supposed hunter profession quite seriously, to be assuaging the concerns of his companion over the phone, that, no, he was not looking to confront any of these peculiar demons on their native land from Japan, and no, he had no plans on coming in contact with the Demon Slayer Corps of Japan, whom apparently would not like him very much. (Considering that he was actually a devil, Eva took this to mean that Lance knew of Spencer’s true nature.)

Before long, Spencer ended his phone conversation with this: “Thank you, it seems we may at least have no further casualty today. No, I will not likely allow for this abomination to live another night. I do have one question. This information must have been difficult for you to come across. How do you…”

There was a long pause, before he finally answered: “I see… my condolences, my friend. I know your children mean a lot to you. I will think of you tonight, when I take care of this unwanted immigrant.”

At this point, Eva wasn’t sure anymore if it was charisma, or if this odd devil was actually _genuine_ in his concern. 

More than that, Lenore showed Eva the action of Spencer rummaging through his coat pockets for a hefty amount of change and even a few bills to lay beside the telephone. Well, a devil who would pay for the toll… how _quaint_ was that?

Striding back into the workroom, Spencer announced: “It seems the best way to tell if he will be fine or not, will be to expose him to sunlight. If the demon is not of strong enough make to turn a human into one of them, which, I have been told, they are humans turned into demons by a progenitor, then the infection in the wound shall simply be sterilized, and rest will be taken care of by natural healing.”

“And if it’s too late?” The hunter asked softly.

“Unto ashes and dust, he will at least go peacefully.”

Of course, Eva and the hunter did not like the sounds of that. 

“There is no cure?” Eva asked, wondering if the devil was keeping something from them. 

He only shook his head. “As far as Lance knows, there is none. It is very parallel with vampirism. He stated that, should there be a cure, this matter may have been resolved centuries, or maybe even millennia ago. Judging by how the wound is not festering or spreading, however…”

Eva could only think how this is somewhat thanks to _his_ ward, but didn’t voice it. Instead, she nodded and concluded: “Sunlight will be our best option. Shall we?” At that, she glanced over at the worried hunter. 

Knowing the kinds of danger they willingly put themselves in, the hunter could only agree to the method. As Eva went to find an eastern facing window in her apartment that had direct sunlight coming in, Spencer and the hunter undid the buckles holding the unconscious person down, and brought him to the open window. 

They watched in relief as the unnatural dark liquid evaporated from the wound, and nothing seemed to get worse. Eva then felt Spencer’s ward dissolve, and decided the situation was going to resolve fine. With some rubbing alcohol, salves, and bandages, she managed to send the hunters on their way. 

That was, however, after some convincing that the injured one needed rest, and under no circumstances should either of the hunters try to head out for any work for the next few days. 

She didn’t like the sound of this foreign demon, but she was also concerned about this devil from out of town. When Spencer had tried to also bid her “good day” and excuse himself, she cut to the chase: “Just like that? No motive to visiting me, other than to genuinely bring a human devil hunter to my doorstep?”

“Milady, I--”

“You have piqued my concern. Sit. Have some tea. We need to talk.”

“...If you wish for a contract, I respectfully decline--”

“None of that. I have all the contracts I will ever need or want.” But then, Eva felt confused. “If you’re not here looking for contracts or souls, then what _are_ you doing at a witch’s adobe?” 

Spencer gave her a blank stare, before opening his mouth, closing it, and then finally finding the words to state: “Ah… it has been a long time, since any human has been so acutely aware of me being not human.”

“Has it been? And how long is a long time, for you?”

He seemed to think on this for a moment, hand on his chin, but without an ounce of condescending vibe. A very human gesture. “A handful of centuries, mayhaps? The times have changed. Not only is less of the general populace aware of that which lurks in the dark, but blending in requires even more dedication to my role. Yet, it’s beginning to seem like wandering may even be less of an option, now, to prevent humans from questioning my identity. Documentation is becoming more meticulous.”

Motioning at one of the seats in her living room once again, Eva gave him only a shred of amusement, and little sympathy, as she stated: “Well, you are an odd old devil, to be wearing your age in the colour of your hair, but hardly anywhere else. It’s no wonder you stand out to be questioned. Wait here. I will be back with tea and biscuits.”

She knew a little of devil etiquette. And if this one still held on to some of them, even after being out of Hell for so long, perhaps he will take the proffered food as a sign of truce. Whatever the denizens of Hell could call sustenance was hard to come by, and sharing said sustenance was risky business. For as long as the proffered meal lasted, it meant a shaky truce. 

Of course, he could always decline, and again, attempt to leave. She had to admit, there was probably little way she could force anything from him. And it was also beginning to seem like this was a devil who truly wanted no trouble. 

However, he had stated he will hunt down the foreign demon. This was also a matter of concern to her, and the more information she could get on this demon, the better. 

When she came back to the living room, Spencer was examining Nowell with curiosity. The black wolf had not bothered to disguise himself as a large black dog, wary of the devil in their home. 

And as she set the tea tray down, he then said: “You mistake my physical appearance for a glamour, it seems.”

As Eva poured out the tea and then offered him his cup, she raised an eyebrow. “And it is not?”

Spencer chuckled and received the cup, to her relief. “It is true that devils do not naturally have a human form, but those powerful enough have the ability to hide away our power and our traits. Perfecting it takes time, and also an amount of risk. In a manner of speaking, we are sealing away parts of ourselves, and using limited transformative powers to adjust what is left of our bodies into something more… human-like, should we wish to blend in. Thank you, for the offer of tea, Milady.”

Confused as to why he was telling her this, of all things, she tried to connect the dots as she sat down with her own cup: “You mean to tell me that the colour of your hair is, apparently, natural?”

“That is what I mean to say, Milady Witch of Redgrave City.”

It was then, she realized, that she had gone way off track from what she needed from him. But now that they have entered the course of conversation, she knew she must pick her questions carefully. Asking him why he was here just seemed to be wasting time, so she opted for the most immediate concern: “About this demon from the East, what do you plan on doing with it?”

“Why, hunt it down and kill it, of course. But that answer would not satisfy you, wouldn’t it?”

She wasn’t sure if she found the transparency in this conversation to be a good thing or a bad thing. But Spencer then continued: “If I may ask, Milady: in this era, where human society has found more reliability in science, why did you become a witch?”

Eva has heard of this question before. She had been picky about the demons and devils she came in contact with, where many have tried to entice her with more than she wanted. “Simply because, even under the reliability of science, that which lurks in the shadows still exists. I wanted the ability to provide relief to those affected by it.” After a pause, she couldn’t help but tell this devil: “A normal medical field would not help those that suffer from the unexplainable.”

And to her surprise, Spencer did not press the matter. He did not try to offer her anything, or question her for further desires of power of knowledge. He simply… agreed with her as he set down the empty teacup. “Yours is a service that is rare and needed, for situations like these. Now, as for this demon, I can tell you what Lance told me. They are weak to sunlight, and they are adverse to the scent and flower of wisteria. I plan on doing some digging, to see if I can more easily pinpoint where this demon hides during the daytime, so that I can deal with it before another night ends. My only hope is that it will be the only one.” 

Strangely, as he stood up, he seemed to realize that he had forgotten about the biscuits, and took one as an afterthought. Having found this entire conversation weird to begin with, Eva did not know what more she could follow up with. 

He might as well be a devil who forgot he was a devil. 

So she asked, carefully: “Then tell me this, devil who goes by the name of Spencer: why are you here in the human realm?”

The fondness that seemed to spread on Spencer’s face as he first nibbled at the checkered tea biscuit felt almost cryptic to her. “Well, since the way between the two worlds has been sealed off, where passage is not easily achieved, I don’t have much of a choice. But besides that, it’s better to live a life with some enjoyment. And I do enjoy the niceties that this realm has to offer. Such as tea. And sweets.”

* * *

Spencer left to gather information for his hunt. 

And Eva… She tried to get some sleep. 

Except it was somewhat futile, as several things weighed on her mind. A foreign demon was one thing. 

Spencer being an oddity and a mystery was another. 

She had sent Lenore to tail him, concerned about his motives, still. She slept for barely a few hours, and when she woke, the only things Lenore had to report to her through their link were somewhat mundane. 

Spencer, in between his investigations, as he asked questions of the city folk and checking alleyways like a true hunter would, also did things such as stopping by a cafe, or purchasing a small deal of cotton candy from a street stall. 

He also clearly knew that Lenore was there, and had even tried to offer her some food. With good humor, Lenore told Eva of how she had wanted some sweets, and Eva could only respond in humor: _traitor_. 

At some point, as it got close to noon, it appeared that Spencer had started going through the newspapers of the past few days. Being a devil must be bloody convenient, as he clearly has not slept at all. 

This action that Lenore reported, however, reminded Eva that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to do some digging of her own. While Spencer went around trying to find access to older newspapers, Eva actually had a collection of newspapers from the last three to four weeks. She often would clip out anything from older things that might be important, but keeping an archive up to three weeks was simply good for when following the trail of any weird happenings. 

Her search proved fruitless. The morning paper of today did have the breaking news of a body being found. That would have been last night’s victim. 

So she abandoned that search, made herself lunch, and began to take stock of what she had. Mainly, she was looking for dried wisteria flowers, which she discovered she did not have. More than that, she’s unsure if she needed a specific species of wisteria, or if any wisteria would do. This might bear researching. 

But eventually… eventually…

As it went from noon to nearing evening, she couldn’t help it anymore. 

There’s an odd devil in her city, out there hunting down a demon that she has little knowledge of. Nevermind the fact that she needs to know more about this demon in order to help anyone else that might encounter it, but she still wasn’t entirely sure if this devil was good news.

So she set out to find Spencer. 

Or, it was more apt to say, she had Lenore deliver a message to him: that she would meet him at an evening cafe to discuss the situation. 

* * *

Sparda was not surprised that the raven-demon imparted the witch’s message that she wished to meet. So, he sat at the requested meeting point, with a sweet cup of honeyed tea. And after discreetly setting down a ward to prevent eavesdropping, he acted as naturally as he could by reading a book he kept on his person. 

The book he had for this current stretch of travels was “Watership Down”, which was a relatively recent story by his standards. (A few years could encompass so many changes, but it was still a drop in the bucket compared to his millenia.)

It was certainly an interesting tale, told from the point of view of rabbits. Soft and harmless little herbivores are what many might think, but in Sparda’s experience, perhaps because he was a devil and animals were more often sensitive to that, he had been bitten by a rabbit before. 

Anything can be more than just prey. 

He then sensed the approach of the witch and her wolf companion, who was now disguised as an impressive-looking dog, complete with a leash. Truly, this did fit the description of a familiar and their master, however. 

As she approached, she gave him a very courteous nod, and began: “Good evening, Spencer. I realized this morning that, though we have met, I did not give you my name.”

No, she did not. But having heard the hunter earlier refer to her only as “The Witch of Redgrave” and addressed her only with “Ma’am”, Sparda thought that she was trying to keep her name a secret. But now, thinking on it, she did not wear anything that concealed her identity, either. 

So it was some sort of courtesy. An understandable one, as most of the public would not know that she is a witch. 

“Good evening, and well met again, Milady…?” He asked as he set his book down, and stood.

“Eva Redgrave.” This time, she gave him a polite curtsy, and in turn, he kindly pulled out her chair for her. 

And as she sat down, she then told her familiar: “Sit, Nowell.” And the dog (wolf) obeyed all too happily. 

Sparda had to admit, not a lot of women who lived in cities like these would keep such a wolf-like dog for a companion. Nowell was large, and though a few of his features were disguised to be less wolfish, he made for a strange house-pet for a young woman who lived alone. 

But on the topic of Nowell, he did wish to finally have a curiosity sated after the server took Eva’s order: “Milady Eva, if I may ask… from where did you find such a familiar? Both of them, in fact. Neither of them seem to be demons that I recognize, even if familiars may take on different forms when contracted. They feel wholly different from anything I’ve encountered. Even by chimeric standards…” 

He could tell that there were several things that went into the makeup of both the wolf and the raven. Some of it reminded him of the experimental chimera that Mundus had been tampering with, before. But last he saw, that weapon of his was an amalgamate mess, barely held together, and blindly destructive. Nevermind the fact that it couldn’t even protect its own core properly. Sparda himself had dismantled it several times during its “testing phase.”

“Ah, that would be because they are constructed demons, created from powerful materials that I have bartered from other devils or collected from other demons.” She answered as she reached down to momentarily run her fingers through Nowell’s fur. “I did not require a powerful entity by my side, in order for me to attain my goal. Knowledge is the sort of power I seek, but only the knowledge I need.”

Hearing that, Sparda couldn’t help but smile. “Because you wish to help people, correct?”

“Yes.” She nodded. It was then, that the server brought her the coffee that she had ordered. 

And in that moment of pause, Sparda thought about the many different factors that went into this information, along with what he was able to learn about her. 

She clearly had considerable innate ability, though he could already tell that with her temperament and with how she uses it, her ability and power is perfectly and strictly geared for healing and alchemy. 

Talent and innate ability was one thing. But created demons as constructs, or chimeras of any sort, took research and discipline. So, she must have started looking into this kind of research when she was young. 

And with her motivation being that she wishes to bring aid and relief to those who encounter demons and the likes, he believed that she was raised in a situation where she had always known about the “other.”

Her name was Eva Redgrave. 

“Ah.” Involuntarily, Sparda let out a soft exclamation. “You have a history with this city. More accurately, a family history?”

Eva seemed to think about her answer, taking a sip of her coffee before answering: “If you are asking if witchcraft is taught in my family, the answer would be: not recently. Over time, old records tend to get lost. I have seen bits and pieces of witchcraft being mentioned, but one can never know how much weight they hold when it often comes with some manner of claim of mental illness. The truth is often muddled, just as muddled as exactly how far back history goes for this city.”

He gave her a guarded nod, and decided to probe her knowledge a little: “And the history of this city is…?”

Setting her cup down completely, she gave him a level stare. 

He stared back, waiting, before realizing that her scrutiny was also a challenge. After all, she knew that he wasn’t as old as his human form would suggest. And that he would ask for the history of a city he might already know of…

She thought he might be playing coy with her. And it was fair that she thought so. 

So, he responded with an easy smile, and a slow blink to yield to her unspoken question: “Perhaps I am simply surprised that people remained here so adamantly. 2000 years can be a long time for humans, who change and adapt so quickly, that when disaster strikes, that which remains will find a way to continue on. 2000 years, and people still live here.”

And so Eva actually shrugged: “Well, I could guess that they remained because this was their home. I understand that this city was named Redgrave due to an old tragedy that I can hardly find information on, now. Some sources claim it was an apocalypse. Some claim that it was disease and fire. And then some tell of a tale of an apocalypse averted. Many of these claims also would tell of the Legendary Dark Knight. Sparda’s legends are fairly deep-seated in this city. You can find it like you would find a folk tale. There’s even a statue related to his legend in one of the parks down in the residential districts.”

Sparda tried very hard to not say anything out of the ordinary or make a reaction to that. This was, quite frankly, not the first time he’s heard of traces of his impressions on this realm being put into more tangible interpretations. 

He didn’t necessarily want to lie to her, but he also didn’t think it was a very wise move to claim his identity. So he went a little roundabout with the topic: “Well, about 2000 years ago was certainly an unsavory time. Though I wish to say that it was not a good time for either side, I do believe the results were for the better…” Still, Sparda had learnt the emotion of forlornness. Was it too ideological to think that things are better achieved without pointless bloodshed?

And Eva seemed to know to ask all the pointed questions: “You say it’s for the better. Are you referring to the sealing of the Underworld? You… Hmm…” She seemed to search for words. “You are not upset about being stranded in this realm?”

He had to laugh with amusement. “Ah, yes… I suppose it was a surprising turn of events. However, I see no gain in letting this realm be overrun by the Underworld.”

This time, when Eva scrutinized him to silently press him for more details, he shook his head and tried to dodge the crux of the question. “Human blood may be a powerful source of demon power, but few of my brethren ask why there is power in human blood. And on that matter, I disagree on seeing human blood itself as the source. I believe there is something more intangible, and that source of power is something anyone can gain without stealing it through blood.”

Hearing this, Eva finally nodded in a manner of acceptance. “You are a very odd devil. But I’ll take that over a problematic one.”

He couldn’t help but find a certain kind of humor in this exchange. “Ah, and you are a rare kind of witch in a world where witches are already rare. A true witch, I would say. The kind whom those in need would seek out from their cabins in the woods.”

It was meant to be a compliment, as well as a sign of recognition. Witch. Sorcerer or sorceress. Priest or priestess. Whatever the title, whatever the method, he had met many humans with gifts, but he only truly admired the ones who used their strength and power for good causes. (A red gem of hefty importance weighed heavily both in his possession and even in his devilish soul.) 

Perhaps now they would work with an acceptable amount of understanding from each other. But this had also clearly flustered her, as much as she tried to hide it. It was in the way she blinked just a little more rapidly, as she tried to turn her attention back on her coffee, instead. 

So he respectfully gave her a moment to collect herself. And she did. 

“Coming from someone with… age, I suppose that is actually a flattering compliment. But with that in mind, then I suppose we have aligned goals. Would you share with me what you have found regarding our unsavory guest?”

“Gladly. Though if you don’t mind, I would like a moment to order something to go along with this conversation.”

His request for sweets seemed to amuse her, but he paid her amusement no deep thought as he answered her questions over a slice of cake. 

It looked like the demon was a very recent arrival. No other odd casualties other than last night, but a ship from Japan that arrived the night before seemed to be missing two passengers, which are currently being treated as passengers that went overboard. 

Circumstantial as it may be, since he couldn’t outright question the ship or dock workers, nor could he check the ship itself for signs of the demon, it stood to reason that this demon arrived only just two nights ago. 

And with its distinctive _putrid_ smell, Sparda was able to locate it quite easily. It had currently made its hiding spot predictably within a shipyard warehouse. And for the moment, Sparda could not simply waltz on through just to slay the foul creature. There were too many people working during daylight. He will have to wait until sunset, and catch the demon before it completely leaves its hiding place. 

There was only one piece of very bad news he gave her: “I have been told that, like some of the denizens of hell, the more these creatures feast, the stronger they tend to become. And those who have fed very well will tend to give off a certain kind of scent. Not all humans are able to detect it, but if one does have a good sense of smell, they can pick up the foul scent of a creature who has feasted well, and lived long.”

“You are telling me this for a reason.”

“I am, indeed. Panicked this demon might be, it might not be one to be underestimated. And it needs to be put down before it grows stronger.”

* * *

To say that there was a lot going through Eva’s mind was an understatement.

She had made it her obligation to see out the city’s unwanted guest, and continue to ascertain the situation of the… other guest…

The devil-who-isn’t-much-like-a-devil told her before they parted ways at the cafe: “If you mean to see this situation through to the end, we may do so together. I can meet you just before sundown, at your adobe.”

She made her preparations after some thought about what she’s dealing with, and then, just before sundown, her doorbell sounded. 

Spencer had rung her doorbell. 

Like he was some _normal_ man outside her apartment to pick her up for an _oddly late evening date._

But she was a witch. She supposed going out at night to deal with the supernatural would be a date for a witch. 

Wait. 

She mentally packed up that thought and ignored it as she opened the door. “A devil who rings the doorbell. And here I thought you were simply going to help yourself inside.”

The way he smiled wryly, with something she dared describe as warm amusement in his eyes, could have fooled her into thinking he was more human than devil. But there was also the undertone of something else in that amusement, when he responded: “Ah, I see… you have been disillusioned from the start, so you expect me to be more devil in behaviour.” He then kindly stepped aside to indicate that he awaits for her to pass through the doors before he leads the way. “However, Milady, if I am to boast about anything I have learnt, then I would say it’s proper etiquette among humans.”

It was when she stepped through did she realize that he was not wearing the clothes he had prior. Before, he blended in on the streets better. But now? He looked like he stepped out of an old Victorian movie. Decked in a purple coat with a certain amount of finery to it, she could see in his stance that he wasn’t just some devil with a silver tongue and skill in magic. 

In fact, magic might not even be the title to his card…

She then recalled that he feigned his identity as a hunter. 

_And sometimes, even a lie can hold a measure of truth._

A devil warrior. The kind of devil who dealt deals in raw strength and typically little else. The kind that tend to work more straightforwardly and less in tongues or in mind games. 

“You are looking forward to this hunt.” Was the observation she decided to voice, as she mentally sent Lenore on out ahead. Nowell remained within her shadows, and she locked the door after checking to make sure she had her bag and supplies. 

Spencer tilted his head, blinked, and admitted evenly: “I cannot deny that fighting is in my blood. But the enjoyment in the hunt is second to eliminating a threat. So it has been, for more than two millennia. And so it shall still be.”

Eva nodded. “Lead the way then, sir.”

They had spoken briefly about the plan prior. Getting inside is not hard for someone who can jump walls and fences, and even learnt how to pick locks. He was actually concerned about _casualties_. Even if the daytime workers were not there, the nighttime patrol would still be present. 

So, the first step was to make sure they knew where they were at, and have them out of the way. 

That’s where Eva and Lenore came in. A little bit of magic and alchemy, and a very smart raven-demon, meant the dozen or so guards were tricked away from their posts and put to sleep before the two of them even arrived. Though they could not get the guards completely away from the area, knowing where they would be stationary meant they would know where to avoid.

The second step took a bit of magic from Spencer. “Illusion is not my forte, but I can fool a security camera or two.”

The best case scenario would be that the demon is dealt with before it flees the warehouse. 

As they approached, Eva eyed her devil companion from the corner of her eye, and finally asked curiously: “You intend to fight the demon in that form?”

“If things go as intended, I do not believe I will need to unseal my true form.”

“But you’re going to fight, like that?” She did find herself curious now. How did he fight, and what did he fight with? What manner of beast or warrior is he?

He seemed baffled at her question for a moment. So she took a different angle: “What do you fight with?”

“Ah.” He saw now where her curiosity lies. “I do have a pair of pistols on me.” And she was surprised that a devil carried handguns, as he drew a pair of guns from within his coat. A curious set of guns clearly made for dual-wielding. She didn’t think devils would care for such human weapons at all!

“However, these may draw too much attention. Convenient in some circumstances, but inconvenient in others. No, I would much prefer that which is a part of my nature.” And upon stowing away the handguns, as the two of them drew near the warehouses, she watched as he materialized a sword in his hand. 

A katana. About as long as she was tall, sheathed in black lacquered wood. A very sophisticated weapon that didn’t look like it would be a devil’s weapon at all. Especially not a devil who was dressed like such. 

But demonic katanas, she knew they existed. Or at least, in rumors they did. Cursed blades, or any of that sort… but somehow she felt like there was an importance in this weapon, a recognition, that would not surface in her mind. Like she had read about this weapon before, but couldn’t remember what it was. 

“That’s a peculiar blade. It doesn’t seem to quite suit your image.” 

“...Yes, so I’ve been told…” He gave her yet another oddly amused look, before showing her yet another wry smile. “Then perhaps, something more like this?” And while the katana was held in his left hand, he raised his right hand and materialized yet another blade. 

This one was a longsword that would probably take two hands for any normal man to wield, but Eva was willing to wager that Spencer could do so with one. 

The blade had a skull and bones attached to its design, though they appeared to be cast in steel and not actual bone. Though thematically more fitting of a devil, the blade still looked like it could be of human make…

While she wouldn’t be fooled by appearances alone, she suddenly realized that this entire time, she had been scrutinizing him. And he had picked up on it. 

The polite thing to do was to acknowledge it: “I do apologize, I have been fairly judgemental, haven’t I? It’s just that… you are very different from what I expect from a devil.”

As he hid away both blades, for once, the grin he gave her was less human amusement, and more devilish: “There is no need to apologize, though I do accept. It is healthy to be wary of my kind. Do not let me acclimate you to the idea that we are all tame.”

Eva was not one to be cowed, but she had to say: she was impressed. It was hard to say in what way she was impressed, but she was. So she smiled as she looked away, towards the warehouse before them, and responded with soft laughter in her words: “Tame? Is that what you are? A _tamed_ devil? If you were bound to servitude, you would not be running freely as you are.”

“Servitude does not tame anyone. But respect does. And I respect humanity.” Was his answer as he materialized his extraordinary katana, and sliced through the air in a manner that clearly went through space itself. 

There was now a way into the warehouse, without actually breaking anything. 

But before they could step through, that which was in hiding had decided to strike first. Through the portal came a torrent of foul liquid, but before Eva could even react, Spencer had grabbed her and suddenly they were both displaced and out of the way, atop a concrete step. 

As the brine of what was apparently foul smelling seawater spread over the concrete a step below them, Eva was going to express some manner of gratitude, but even that was cut short when she noticed something in the corner of her eye, as she felt the magic flare about her companion. 

Glowing and violet summoned swords formed about them, formed of power that she could easily tell was his. The blades each flew forward in succession to each other, and while the first three seemed to only pierce the water that was spreading over the concrete, when the fourth landed, something jumped out of the all-too-shallow waters. 

It was easy to tell that this was a demon who was affluent with water, and that spoke bad news. This warehouse was on the docks, where it was just a hop skip and jump for their quarry to escape to the waters. 

And this demon might have once been human-passing, but in the thick of combat, it clearly was not human anymore. More like a creature of the depths, an angler fish with legs. A jaw too big, too toothy. Eyes too dead, and with odd cross shaped pupils. A lure hanging from its head, and dark bumpy skin… a night hunter from the depths. 

As one of the blades did finally skewer the demon’s legs, it howled out something that Eva could not understand. But she was not surprised that Spencer might be versed in more than one human language, as he responded in English with a reverberation in his voice: “Your escape from what plagues you does not absolve you of your transgressions.”

The demon healed from its stab wound, and tried to turn tail and run. Spencer was fast, but dealing with a demon who could melt into the shallow waters meant he wasn’t always fast enough. 

Eva could tell that the water that was spreading thin was going to become a problem. It created more territory for the demon, and also got them closer to the edge of the docks, where all they had to do was leap into the ocean and be gone. 

She was fairly certain that Spencer was not some manner of aquatic devil. 

As she watched him switch tactics over to using the longsword, while dodging small amounts of toxic sludge being thrown at him, she pulled out from her bag a few plant cuttings she had acquired and prepared for this situation. 

Containment was always just as important as the hunt itself, and when it came to healing and nature, that was her forte. 

This method was never meant to leave long-lived plants, but right now, she only needed them to be long-lived enough until Spencer slayed the demon. 

* * *

This fight wasn’t quite meant to be drawn out. But within the first few actions, Sparda knew the issue wasn’t going to be about power level. 

It was going to be about holding back. 

He couldn’t afford to leave too much evidence of an unexplainable fight. And he’s afraid that if he pressed too hard, too fast, the demon will instead choose to run away as fast as possible. And with their location being so close to the water, it was risky business. 

But then, he felt the casting of magic from behind him, and the next thing he knew, plants sprung from his witchly companion and circled about all of them, preventing the spread of the seawater, even lapping a significant amount of it up with its roots. 

Aided by magic, the plants grew thick and tall. He knew that it wouldn’t last through the night, but this opportunity was all he needed. 

He was especially pleased when the plants bloomed, and he recognized the plant as wisteria.

The demon screeched and tried to jump up as high as possible to get over the plants before they bloomed, but the raven familiar swooped down and knocked the demon right out of the air. Still, it was more clever than its ugly mug suggested, and when Sparda leapt up to try and slash at it with the Rebellion, it twisted its body and dropped itself into the shallow water again. 

It knew who was the source of the wisteria, and Sparda heard it direct unsavory words at her. But the moment he teleported the distances to cover for her, the large wolf-familiar had beat him to the punch and pounced from the shadows. 

Demon and wolf landed with a shallow splash in the center of the wisteria-wreathed arena. The water was slowly being drained away by the plants, though Sparda could imagine that seawater was no good for them, and it was taking a significant amount of magic to keep the plants going. 

Momentarily miffed that his action was interrupted by a wolf demon, he paused and put himself at an at-rest position, sword tip in the ground with his hand curled about the handle in lax care. He glanced over at her. 

She caught his gaze for a moment, then looked on forward at her large and feral wolf familiar snapping at the demon. Seemingly more at ease with him, she smiled and joked: “Isn’t he a good boy?”

Sparda couldn’t help but laugh. He had never quite had what he would call a loyal pet. Disciples were not pets, and though Mundus had once offered him a cerberus a very long time ago, he was a different devil back then. Pets were of no use to him. 

The demon was getting desperate, and Sparda switched his weapon from the Rebellion to the Yamato. The water on the ground was drying up, and now the demon had nowhere to hide. 

But in its desperation it was crying. And begging to someone that was not here. The words that Sparda could decipher did not change his mind about the end result:

_No, no… even here, I could not escape. I didn’t want this anymore. I just want to hear the waves again, and feel the sea breeze…_

Though the demon’s words did not seem to make full sense, Sparda understood now that somewhere in this demon was a broken soul who was once human. A tragedy that was not uncommon. 

It must die. But it does not have to do so without peace. 

_“It is time to return your soul to that which makes you happy. Remember the sounds of the waves, and the feel of the breeze. Remember, and go in peace.”_

The moment the wolf familiar next leapt out of the way, Sparda took his chance. 

The Yamato was a blade in which he had sealed all of his ability to cut through so precisely, that even the immaterial and space itself may part for him. There, within this demon who smelled of death, he found the broken soul, and cut it out from its body that had become its cage. 

It was a swift, clean, and almost ceremonious motion. 

And the body crumpled unto dust, while the soul went to where souls ought to return. 

All things considered, the fight went fast. Faster since he didn’t have to chase the demon down. 

The spell channeled to keep the wisteria in flower faded, and the blossoms began to break apart. The petals that touched the ground also became dust, and by daylight, he was certain that these trees would have faded to dust without a trace.

So, he recalled something he had once read with much curiosity, and quoted a line of its original Italian text to himself in amusement as he carefully sheathed his blade. 

And from behind him, his companion, who was surprisingly well-read, recognized it: “ _The Divine Comedy_? Really now, a devil swordsman who also reads?” She dusted off her skirts while her raven familiar fluttered down to land upon her shoulder. The black wolf was now less feral, and circled around to be at her side again. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to be able to enjoy the things of man. Though I have been told on occasion that I have no real taste for food unless it contains sugar.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but then opted to change the subject: “Is the demon truly dead? I thought only sunlight could kill them for good.”

“Sunlight, yes, but… Not all demons were always demons. This was once human...” He knelt down to regard the pile of dust. “Separate what was once human from the demon that’s left, and neither could exist without the other. Now their broken soul is free, and their demons, slayed.”

A silence fell over them for a moment. 

Sparda stood up, and faced her. She looked tired, and somewhat drained. 

He could offer her more power, or some manner of exchange befitting of a witch and a devil, but he understood from the sheer fact that she would rather have familiars created from her own abilities rather than borrowing power from other demons or devils, that she would not care for such an offer. 

So, instead, he dismissed his blade, and held out his hand: “Shall I walk you home, Milady?”

* * *

Eva was not unfamiliar with the concept of humans becoming demons. 

It wasn’t just myth, but a cautionary tale for witches, too. 

But today, she had to wonder: what about the other way around?

Not that a demon or devil may become entirely human, but could they develop a human heart?

In a manner, demons and devils have souls. They are wholly different from that of human souls, but it’s something that’s there. Something that makes them who they are, and not just what they are. Just like animals, they could have personality.

Spencer escorted her home. On the way, she asked him: “Do you think that was the only demon that came ashore? Or might there be others?”

“I would not know, but I intend to keep vigil in case there are others.”

“So, you would be staying in Redgrave longer, then?”

He paused before thinking about it and answering her: “If this might bother you, perhaps we can come to an agreement. For the duration that I am here, we could work in tandem on this, should we find out there are more of these foreign demons. You will know where to find me, with your own eyes in the sky. I will not be hard to find. In fact, I can give you the address to the hotel I stay at.”

Nearing her apartment door, she pursed her lips in thought, but knew that this was probably an agreement that would be prudent, whether it be to keep an eye on him, or if more of these demons appeared. 

“Very well, then. But this agreement…”

Before she could continue, he interrupted: “Think of it not in terms of a pact. I am beyond the want for any sort of pact. Just simply… trust? And a partnership without having to put down tedious terms that outline gains and losses.”

Somewhere in those words, Eva heard a soul who was tired, as if he had lost something among the years he walked the earth. 

Do devils make friends?

If so, then in their long lives, this would mean…

And then, he added: “You are resourceful, but you are also kind. And I enjoyed your company. An admittance that I understand may not be to your liking, so I can understand if you decline--”

She sighed with a smile, and shook her head. “You are, again, full of surprises. I look for a devil behind the mask of a man, but all I’m really finding is an intriguing mystery. Very well, I am not opposed to a partnership. But in this case, I would like to ask something of you.”

“And that would be?”

“Your name, please.”

And she has never seen a devil freeze and show an emotion akin to human panic on their face like Spencer did. 

“I…” He appeared to quickly go through his options, and responded: “Perhaps if that could wait, I…”

So she raised her brow at him, again. 

“I do not find it fair at the moment, to give you my name, when I seem to have a streak for forgetting the names of people I’ve met for short periods of time…”

It sounded like deflection. But he also looked very abashed, to the point where this devil didn’t know what to do with his hands, and had briefly even brought a hand to the back of his neck, before somehow deciding he was fidgeting a little too much. In her silence, he started to ramble a little: “It’s been a point of exasperation for some. I would never forget a face, but names tend to elude me unless I have had ample amount of time to practice putting a name to a face—”

“Well, I don’t have centuries for you to learn, good sir.”

It was meant to be a joke. If she chose to seek power for youth, she could potentially have centuries. But she had little plans for that. 

However, Spencer suddenly looked forlorn. “Ah, no, nothing that drastic. I simply need to have some time to know someone.”

There were many points of amusement in this, but Eva wasn’t going to beat around the bush about it. “So, you have forgotten my name already?”

“My sincerest apologies, Milady…”

“Is that why you keep calling me that?”

“I, um… Yes.”

And finally, she couldn’t help it. 

She laughed. 

She was laughing at a devil who had forgotten her name within barely half a day of meeting. 

And this devil, whom she currently would only know as “Spencer,” politely coughed and could only offer his further apologies: “Let us add another agreement to this partnership, then. Either before I leave this city, or by the time I remember your name when we re-meet, whichever comes first. I will tell you who I am.”

By this point, Eva could only shake her head while her laughter died down. “You are a strange devil. Very well then, Spencer. My name is Eva Redgrave. I hope you remember that, next time we meet.”

And from there, it was another chapter to the story that somehow became the story of _them_. 

He didn’t leave Redgrave City for a long time (by human standards.) 

Long enough to one day tell Eva who he was. Long enough to give in to love. Long enough to have family. 

What truly was a mask, anymore, when Sparda could feel content with himself? The human heart that Eva later claimed he had was every bit a part of him as his devil’s blood.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I do have some very intricate headcanons on how diverse “The Underworld” is, and not exactly everything comes from “Hell” or that specific section that most of Europe (and cultures influenced by old Europe) calls “The Underworld.” (It’s more like “The Otherworld” in my canon. Let’s just say that, where the mortal realm is diverse, so are the things of “The Other.”   
> \- Incidentally, yes, there can be monsters of “artificial” make that are not native of Hell, either. DMC4 proves it. But I think that’s enough rambling on my part about how diverse this canon is.   
> \- I like the idea of a Sparda that enjoys sweet things of the human realm. I further like the idea that both the prevalence of sweets in the household and natural inclination is what makes Dante so partial to ice cream and strawberries. And I further imagine that my headcanon of Vergil with a sweet tooth comes from that same reason. Yes, I’m absolutely saying the twins got their sweet tooth from Sparda.  
> \- I did not study enough literature to be able to confidently pick out a quote from “The Divine Comedy” that was perfect for the situation, because I am uncertain I understand it at all. I am sure, however, somewhere in there, is something that could be quoted for the situation, even if it’s in Sparda’s amusement to himself.  
> \- By the end of the day, I had decided that Sparda chose to learn many human things. Though he will never truly be human, I believe that at a glance, he could do very well to pass as a somewhat eccentric human being.


End file.
